


Narcissus

by Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Kurosaki Ichigo, Ichigo overthinks everything, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Selfcest, Top Hollow Ichigo, Zangetsu (Hollow Ichigo)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 03:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Ichigo was told that a zanpakuto spirit is the reflection of one's soul.So... He's got issues.





	Narcissus

Ichigo was told that a Zanpakuto spirit is the reflection of one's soul.

He believes it in a sorta abstract way, maybe? Old Man Zangestu wasn’t really anything like him at all, though. He was stiff and kind of cold. But also mature and unwavering in a way Ichigo respected intensely. Zangetsu was less like what Ichigo was and more like he needed in a guiding figure. Fuck knows Goatface and Urahara were not shinning examples of paternal support.

So maybe his zanpakuto reflected less on him and more on the stability he aspired towards. It made sense that his subconscious would project his needs over a perfect aspiration.

After the whole debacle with Muramasa, he believed it. Sode no Shirayuki was exactly what he expected of Rukia. Cold, severe, regal, powerful, beautiful. Zabimaru too, walked the line between fierce, loud, battle-crazy maniac and childish, optimistic joy that Renji somehow managed to precariously balance upon.

So, when he was told a Zanpakuto spirit is a reflection of his soul, he believed it. Logically. It made sense.

He was still missing something though.

(Not really. He knew for a long time now. He just denied it. Pushed it down and down and out of the way. How could he not know? Whenever he needed help, support, pressure to grow— it was never the Old Man that provided it.)

But what does it say about him that his Zanpakuto has his face?

Is he a narcissist?

He didn’t think he was. He knew he wasn’t very attractive. His face is weird. Too pointy and narrow and mean looking. Resting bitch face, all the time. Orihime told him he made some funny faces, which he’s pretty sure is just her gentle way of telling him he needs to smile more.

He’s never been asked out by a girl. None of the girls in his classes ever even had a crush on him. None of the guys either, but that didn’t bother him as much. He didn’t even realize he was into guys until high school, so no one else probably did either.

That’s beside the point though. No one ever flirted with him, except for Yuroichi (but she was just doing it because she knew he was gonna blush about it), or offered him Valentine's day chocolate, except for Tatsuki (but pity friend chocolate doesn’t count) and Orihime (who is too sweet for this earth and probably heard about his lack of cholotates from Suki and was trying to make him feel better.)

Chad used to get four or five chocolates a year, more when he hit puberty and was suddenly 6’5” and all muscle, and played the bass, and could speak two languages fluently and so obviously kind. It’s fair. Ichigo’s has had a fantasy or two of climbing the man like a tree. You know... If he wasn’t Chad's best friend. He gets what the girls see in him.

Ishida always gets a nice stack of chocolates from the people that are attracted to his intelligence and cool personality, and Mizoru gets practically buried in gifts from his sugar moms (or whatever they are). Fuck, even Keigo earned a blushing confession or two through the years.

Not Ichigo though. People usually avoid him like he had the plague. He was the kid that girls asked out on a dare before running off giggling to their friends when he was reduced to stuttering; shame and embarrassment curling low in his gut. Then he got used to it and people didn't fake ask him out because he glares at them.

Ichigo isn’t jealous, his friends are great and they definitely deserve the attention and appreciation more than him. It’s just... he knows his ugly hair and bad reputation and mean face keep people away.

He’s freckle-y, which Karin said means he has bad skin, and pimply, which proves he has bad skin, and he’s _ginger_. His hair was an orange offense on literally everyone eyes. He’d have colored it black years ago if he wasn’t allergic to hair dye. So instead he walks around and scowls at everyone who give and gave him shit for it and pretends he didn’t care at all.

Which cycles back to him being scary looking and unapproachable. On the whole, people are generally happier if they don’t see him at all. If he can hide in the back of a room out of sight, out from under the teachers and his classmates scrutiny - that was usually best.

No. He’s definitely not a narcissist.

And still, his zanpakuto spirit has his face.

Maybe it was like that to remind him how little he truly fit in with normal people, even though he desperately wants too. But he can't because he's a freak.

The boy with the angry face, orange hair, and too many scars. Who went away one summer and now jumps when he heard noises no one else can and sometimes reached for something that isn’t over his shoulder.

Human Shinigami Quincy Hollow freak.

Zangetsu is violent too, not at all like the Old Man.

That... that one made more sense. Ichigo is violent too.

He tries not to be, tried to hide it when he was younger. But he was in too many fights for that. He came home with bruises and scratches and a stab wound one time.

“You should see the other guys!” He laughed when Karin noticed the blood pooling in the cloth of his shirt, high on the adrenaline and endorphins from winning, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

He ignored her wide eyes and Yuzu standing in shock in the corner and went to open the fridge. He was hungry. What did he want. Cold cuts? The protein could be good.

It didn’t even register to him that this was concerning behavior until his dad carefully placed himself between Ichigo’s blood covered form and Yuzu. Until his dad gently placed a hand on his elbow and guided him into the clinic. Until Ichigo caught his reflection: yellow eyes, blood loss pallid skin, and a too wide smile.

It felt like being plunged into ice cold water. Hypothermic.

His dad stitched the wound and wrapped him in a shock blanket and held him when he cried.

Ichigo didn’t want to hurt anyone. But he does. And he is _really_ _good_ at it.

Zangestu doesn’t think he should be ashamed of that, the hollow thinks its a strength. That scares Ichigo. Zangetsu wants him to be the King. Wants everyone else to bow down before him.

What’s that say about Ichigo? Is he arrogant? Does he want to dominate others? Hurt others? Oh my god, what if it's a fetish thing--

“What the fuck are you doing?” Zangestu interrupts, voice reverberating from inside his head and suddenly Ichigo isn’t sitting on his bed anymore, but rather falling through the air of his inner world.

He catches himself on a reishi platform, hurling around to find the hollow before the bastard decides to stab him. “What?”

Ichigo spots him, crouching on his toes on the edge of a building some 10 meters above him, forearms resting on his knees. The hollow’s muscles are loose, hands away from his sword. Ichigo can’t sense any growing belligerence from him.

“You heard me.” Yellow eyes are narrow, head cocked slightly to the side in an imitation of genuine curiosity.

“I-” Ichigo frowns, “Fuck you. I don’t have to tell you anything.” Reflexively, his hand comes up to grip Zangetsu’s handle. It’s not a hostile motion, but a comforting one. Having the weight of his sword on his back, knowing there’s a blade between him and a threat is comforting. Nevermind that the sword on his back and hip are the same one that is standing at the buildings edge. “What do you want.”

The hollow stares back for a moment, lips curling into a snarl and shifts slightly so that long hair slips carelessly over his shoulder.

It pisses Ichigo off, that even wearing his ugly face, the hollow somehow manages to still look beautifully lethal (or maybe lethally beautiful).

Ichigo’s always felt like he was a child playing at war whereas the hollow revels in it. He wasn’t powerful like Renji, or agile like Rukia. He wasn't like any of the captains, with their restrained power and collected nature and razor fine control. They were dangerous when unleashed.

Ichigo felt unhoned. Small. Dangerous, too, maybe. But not in the same way as Unohana or Ukitake or even Baykuya. Urahara just lets him loose at the enemy, failsafes always in place incase he rampages out of control. Even against Aizen, Ichigo was never supposed to be the one to win, just weaken the asshole enough to seal him---

“Stop that.” The hollow stands suddenly, unfolding to his full height and Ichigos grip tightens on Zangestu. “Fucking… psychoanalyzing yourself. What the hell are ya doing tha’ for.”

Ichigo blinks, surprised, weight shifting onto his back foot, not to run “I’m not-”

“Yeah y’ are.” The hollow interrupts, irritation edging into his words, “All woe is me. Bitching. The fuck is that?” His voice is deep and steady, yellow gaze pinning Ichigo like an ant under a microscope.

Ichigo feels his eyes narrow in response, anger starting to balloon beneath his breast bone, feels hot under his collar. “It’s none of your business.” He steps up, using the reishi platform under him to jump up until he’s eye level with the hollow. A gulf of air still spans the two of them, enough distance for him to defend himself.

The hollow shakes his head incredulously, “None o’ my business? Are ya fucking with me? You’re sittin’ there wallowing in self-fucking-pity wondering why I’ve got you’re face? If that ain’t ma business what the fuck is?” He talks a single step forward, off the edge of the building and into the air, long hair catching in the updraft. His hands are still loose at his side, but Ichigo can sense the rising tension in his reiatsu.

“You’re gonna tell me what I can and can’t do with my time?” Ichigo grinds out. The arrogant fucking prick.

“When it’s stupid shit like this, yeah! So what if you’re a narcissist? Who cares if ya like ta fight? Maybe it’s not tha’ goddamned deep, huh, ever think of that?” The hollow advanced another step, hand raising to slowly wrap around his own swords shaft.

The _antagonistic_ bastard!

“Well, fuck you! Maybe I just want to know why the hell my souls so screwed up! Is that too much to ask?” Ichigo yells, a slightly hysterical twinge to his words.

“It’s not!” The hollow shouts back, teeth bared in a snarl, “Just, fuckin’ ask me! That’s what Shinigami are supposed to do. Jinzen and shit ta get ta know your Zanpakuto better! And here ya are havin’ a meltdown! Pathetic.” He growls the last word, cold and condescending.

Ichigo grits his teeth, “Shut up!”

“Fuckin’ make me!” The hollow howls back.

Oh, it is so on. Ichigo jumps into a shunpo and pulls Zangetsu’s heavy blade free from its makeshift sheath. He angles it to slip effortlessly through the air, so familiar with minimizing the air drag now its thoughtless, gathers speed and strenght before colliding hard with the hollow’s sword. The force of the blow sending tingles up his arms.

His rage makes him sloppy.

It's almost too easy for the hollow to capitalize. He releases the pressure holding Ichigo off of him and lets the ginger fall past him, catching him in the gut with a kick. The force of Ichigo’s forward momentum combined with the kick folds him nearly in half around the hollows shin, before sending him rocketing into the side of a building.

Ichigo gasps, head bouncing off the thick glass. Dazed, it takes him a moment to realize the hollow’s crushed his own weight down on top of him, trapping him against the window pane. Long fingers pull his hands together, the bandage on the tail end of his sword already wrapped tightly around Ichigo's wrists. 

Ichigo struggles, feet braces wide against the ground and bucks up hard into the weight above him, trying to dislodge the hollow. Where did his sword go? Wide eyes catch light on the edge of the blade, lying uselessly on the floor a few meters away. He needs to get to it.

Zangetsu just clenches his thighs tighter around Ichigo and rocks with the movement before forcing him back down.

He grins wickedly down at Ichigo, silver hair framing his face perfectly. “Caught you, king~” he purrs, leaning forward until his chest to chest with his captive.

The rumbling vibration carries all the way through Ichigo and his breath stutters in his throat. “What are-“

The hollow jerks Ichigo’s wrists suddenly up above his head and he realizes that while he was distracted with trying to get the hollow off of him that his hands were completely secured with the bandages. The hollow drives his sword into the ground all the way to the hilt, jostling Ichigo's shoulders and rapping his restrained knuckles against the glass with the force of the movement.

Ichigo tugs once, twice, but he can’t get enough leverage to pull the sword free from this angle and with the hollow on top of him like this, one pale hand pressed against his chest and weight held heavy across his thighs.

“What the hell!” Ichigo hisses, glaring up at the hollow.

The hollow surveys him from under pale bangs. Sharp teeth are displayed in a predatory grin and feral gold eyes look like they’re almost glowing.

“Aww~” the hollow coos, echoing voice pitched lower than usual. The hair on the back of Ichigo's neck raises in response to some deep seated adrenaline driven instinct. “Ya don’t like this? But ya look so pretty.”

“P-pretty?!” Ichigo stutters incredulously and immediately attempts to escape again, writhing and bucking and tugging at his restraints, “I-I I’m not pretty, I’m not-“

Ichigo has never been called pretty before, not even handsome, he, he, he was gangly and sharp and mean. He wasn’t-

“So pretty,“ the hollow crones, and rocks with Ichigo’s desperate movements. His hand falls away from Zangetsus hilt to reach for Ichigo's face, brushing disheveled orange strands aside. Ichigo's breath stutters on his chest when nails scrape lightly against the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Why can't ya see what I do?”

It’s obvious why he has Ichigo's face. Ichigo is gorgeous. His golden halo of hair is warmer than sunlight. His brown eyes are fierce, protective, and comforting. His hearts so big, he cares for so many people. Too many people, sometimes. His scars, hard earned from victory after victory, paint like constellations between his freckled skin.

He’s so “beautiful,” Zangetsu breathes the last word, moving to cup Ichigo's face between his hands and suddenly, all he wants is to kiss him. If Ichigo can’t see why he’s got Ichigo's face, then he can make Ichigo feel it instead.

Zangetsu leans forward with Ichigo's next buck, holding himself just barely above Ichigo, only a scant few centimeters between them. Ichigo freezes, strong muscles tensed and gorgeous brown eyes staring up at him, soft lips half open. Ohh— how he wants.

“W-what are you doing?!” There’s a definite panicky edge to Ichigo's voice and his eyes are too wide. A dark blush crawls up his neck and ears.

That’s… not what Zangetsu wants. Yes the blush is good, but he doesn’t want his king panicking. He wants his king to feel safe and cared for. Valued. He’s the king, Zangetsu wants to give him the whole world, the throne, everything he can on a golden platter. He’d shatter fate for Ichigo. He has already.

“I want you to know,” the hollow whispers almost desperately, eyes trained on the king, watching every subtle twitch of his expression, noticing the way Ichigo's eyes flicker across his face, dancing between his eyes and his lips. “I want-“

Zangetsu searches for the words, can’t find them, he’s usually so good with words, but right now, with Ichigo firmly pinned beneath him, warm skin pressed against his lizard like cold blooded body, they evade him.

He kisses Ichigo instead, actions always speak louder than words, so his kisses him, so softly, deeply, trying to convey all his emotions as viscerally as he can. Tries to express that Zangetsu has his face because it’s beautiful, because he wants to be as close to the king as he can, because he wants everyone to know how precious and powerful and ohhh— Ichigo's kissing him back. He’s—

Zangetsu opens his eyes --when did he close them? And pulls back, searching for air. And Ichigo, his lovely little king, chases him, arching up off the glass beneath them to reach Zangetsus lips. Its. Fuck. It’s the hottest thing Zangetsu can imagine, that’s his king wants him. He kisses Ichigo again, deeper this time, licks into his mouth and shudders when his tongue scrapes against Ichigo's teeth. He grinds back against Ichigo who, somehow during his attempts to break free, managed to position his rapidly hardening length right up against Zangetsu’s ass.

Ichigo groans into Zangetsu’s mouth. He can’t keep himself from rocking up into Zangetsu’s and fuck, Zangetsu wants to go slow, wants to treat Ichigo nice and gentle, wants to worship him and tease him until Ichigo begs, but Zangestu's never had that kind of patience. He isn’t built for gentle touches. He is built to dominate, to overpower and to carve through his king’s enemies. He can’t—

It’s Zangetsu that cracks first, “let me show you,” he begs, drawing himself away from Ichigo, hands scratching through orange hair and tugging just enough to coax a please noise from the back of Ichigo’s throat.

He already looks debauched. Brown eyes hazy and lips turning a brilliant shade of red, spit slicked and already slightly puffy. Fuck, his lips would look so good wrapped around his dick, red on pale white skin. Ichigo’s mouth was practically made for fucking. He’d be so good, so pliant and willing to please. Zangetsu would twist his fingers through his hair, use it as a handhold while he fucked his king’s pretty little throat - but that could come later. Later when his king understood his devotion.

Carefully, still forcing himself to be gentle and soft like Ichigo needs from him right now, he leans in to lick a gentle strip up Ichigo's neck, teeth scraping on his earlobe. “Let me show you what you do to me. I’m gonna me you feel so good, my king,” He offers the title almost reverently.

Ichigo shudders underneath him, a small whine slipping from his lips. “Yes,” Ichigo whispers, and Zangetsu grins against his neck, littering soft kisses on his throat, “I- I want-“

Zangetsu bites down at the juncture between his neck and his jaw, slowly working the flesh between his teeth. It’s the first of what will be many, many bruises.

“What do you want?” Zangestu asks, pulling himself away from Ichigo’s body so he can see him fully.

Ichigo's eyes are black, completely dilated with lust, and though clearly still confused. His growing arousal is obvious.

Zangetsu grinds back on it, hips moving torturously slow. “What do you want me to do? You want me to fuck you?”

Ichigo has to bite his bottom lip to suppress the pleasure sound that’s trying to bubble out of his chest. Embarrassed still, but hell, the things the hollow is saying to him. It’s not fair! It’s not fair that his hollow could be so sinful, so in control. He’s beautiful like this, sitting astride him, silky hair spilling carelessly over his shoulders and a faint purple blush on his cheeks. His eyes are wide and ernest, captivating pools of gold and his mouth - Ohh.

Ichigo’s an 18 year old boy, he’s seen plenty of porn, but the silly lines he’s heard from the actors in it are nothing compared to the nearly worshipful way his hollow is begging to pleasure him now. Pleasure him. What a completely ridiculous though, who would ever want to-

The hollow groans, grinding down again and Ichigo bucks in response. “You’re gorgeous. So beautiful, pinned down underneath me right now. Fuck, I wanna eat you alive—“

Ichigo laughs, a little breathless and a lot turned on. “Coming from a hollow, that doesn’t sound as sexy as you think it does.”

“Oh? You don’t think?” The hollow grins, sharp teeth flashing. He slides down Ichigo’s body, no longer concerned that his wielder might try escape, until he’s resting between Ichigo's knees, face -and more importantly, mouth- a few scant inches from Ichigo’s hard cock. He pulls open a Ichigo's kusode as he goes, not bothering to deal with the ties when his claws can cut right through them.

He should wait and go slow until Ichigo is crying. He should tease until Ichigo sobs for his release. He should wait until Ichigo begs to let him come.

He mouths over Ichigo’s still clothed dick, warm breath and tongue dampening the black fabric. Gold eyes flicker up to see Ichigo watching him, beautiful brown eyes wide and lip caught between his teeth, blush painted darkly across his cheeks.

“You’re gonna taste so good~” Zangetsu moans against Ichigo's thigh, nipping softly through the fabric as his fingers move to pull off the hamaka and briefs underneath.

His king is already so hard, pre-cum beading from the slit and Zangetsu wants to lick it off, wants to drag his tongue up the shaft to hear the deep appreciative groan he knows Ichigo will make.

He wants to swallow the whole thing in one go, wants Ichigo to lose control, to reflexively thrust up into his mouth, wants Ichigo to realize how good it feels. Wants him not to stop, to fuck his mouth, his throat, wants him to use his mouth, wants to choke, wants Ichigo to wrap his long, battle calloused fingers in his hair, wants him to hold his horns like handles and use them to drive Zangestu down and hold him on his fat cock until he runs out of oxygen.

Zangestu’s doesn’t think he’d even fight. He’d just hold his claws so patiently over Ichigo's femorals. He wouldn’t dig in at all. He would stick his tongue out as much as possible to reach Ichigo’s balls, would keep his teeth away and keep his mouth soft and let Ichigo watch as he choked around his massive girth, eyes tearing up from lack of oxygen. He’d be happy to pass out with his king’s cock fucking a new hole into his throat.

Maybe he’d wake up, his king finally bored of his unconscious mouth, to find his king behind him, already balls deep, fucking him like a toy. Fucking him awake, hand shaped bruises forming on his pale hips, bite marks across his shoulders and neck.

He'd have cummed in his sleep, Ichigo's reiatsu swallowing him whole, lingering in his throat and now spit roasting him from the other end. He’d wake up crying, pushing back instinctively on Ichigo, so oversensitized the pleasure hurts. Oh. His hole, Ichigo could dig his fingers into his hollow hole, could stroke over the sensitive skin with his reiatsu, could unmake him. He’d cum again, just from that alone, again and again until he didn’t have anything left. Would take him hours to come back to himself, to remember himself.

His king could fuck Zangestu through it all, take his pleasure in Zangetsu’s body.

He is his king’s horse. He exists to be used.

“You gonna stare at it all day?” Ichigo’s husky voice shocks him from his reverie and the ginger rolls his hips in the smallest of movements, incrementally placing his dick closer to Zangetsu’s mouth- telling him exactly what he wants.

Zangetsu realizes he’s been staring, mouth half open, oh my god is he drooling? Zangetsu licks his lips, fingers still trailing teasing pattern onto the insides of Ichigo's thighs. Ichigo’s hands are still tied above his head, he couldn’t fuck Zangetsu’s mouth right now unless Zangetsu chokes himself. It’s not quite the same.

“You make me greedy,” Zangetsu murmurs, turning his face to bite again at the sensitive meat of Ichigo's thighs, and then his hands slide down under Ichigo's ass to grab two handfuls and lifts him up, rolling him until he’s balanced on his shoulders.

“What the fuck?!” Ichigo immediately returns to his squirming.

The hollow has the necessary leverage to hold him still though, and he’s impatient. He doesn’t bother answering Ichigo’s sqwalked question and instead licks across Ichigo’s hole. No warning, just action.

Ichigo yelps, hips jerking and hands grasping for Zangetsu’s hilt, just to have something to hold onto. He struggles to extract himself and squeals again when the hollows grip tightens. “W-w-what are you doing?!”

The hollow presses the flat of his tongue against Ichigo’s hole, pushing just slightly against the tight ring of tissue before speaking not even moving back for space, “Isn’t it obvious? No lube in here, gonna get you nice and loose some other way.” He drops a wet open mouth kiss to the skin, “plus, I did say I was gonna eat you.”

Ichigo’s breath hitches and Zangetsu weighs his options as he continues to tease his wielders entrance. He could roll Ichigo over and holding him as down ass up, but it would be annoying to have to roll him back over after he got him nice and loose. He wants to be able to see Ichigo’s face when he fucks him.

No. Zangetsus’ll keep him like this, back curved and balanced with his ass held all the way off the floor in a single hand.

Zangetsu laps at the tight ring of muscle. He runs his spit sloppy tongue over Ichigo’s entrance until the ginger begins to relax, maintains the slow pace until Ichigo’s breath hitches around a moan and only then does the hollow push his tongue forward, shoving drool into the hole.

Ichigo makes a sound like he's being strangled and the hollows grin is feral. He laps at the opening while Ichigo writhes and moans under him, fingers flexing around Zangetsu’s handle, toes curling and thighs quivering at the overwhelming sensation.

Finally, finally, Zangestu slides a finger in alongside his tongue to stretch Ichigo further, holding him steady with carefully controlled power when Ichigo bucks against him. He works Ichigo for a few moments, curling the digit as Ichigo shudders under him, before adding another. His tongue continues to work, leaving sloppy wet lines and dribble all along Ichigo’s crack. Ichigo keens long and high when he adds a third and Zangetsu takes that as a sign that Ichigo’s nearly ready to be fucked properly.

He rubs his knuckles deep searching for the button of nerves which will send Ichigo over the edge. He thrusts his tongue, face pressed as close as he can, fingers kneading at the inside of Ichigo’s walls and when Ichigo suddenly tightens around him, come spurting from his untouched cock onto Ichigo’s face, Zangetsu moans with him.

“Didja just come, king? I didn’t even touch ya. Didn't even get to put my mouth around your cock yet.” Zangetsu pulls away from Ichigo’s hole, fingers still abusing the small gland.

Ichigo’s still riding out his orgasm, too gone to reply with anything more than an unintelligible whimper, his eyes rolled back in his head and mouth wide open. It’s too much. Too much for Zangestu to hold back anymore.

He lets Ichigo uncurl from his bent over position, his fingers coming loose from Ichigo’s thoroughly stretched hole with an obscene squelching noise.

“No, no” Ichigo sucks in a breath, eyelashes fluttering, “come back, I need you. Fill me up.”

Zangetsu’s gone. It takes him half a breath to extract his own length from his hamaka and another to slick it with more spit before thrusting into Ichigo’s waiting hole.

The sound Ichigo makes is completely animal. His legs close around Zangestu’s waist like a bear trap, heels pulling him home faster.

“Fuck, King~” Zangetsu groans gold eyes fixed on Ichigo, fingers brushing against his cheekbones before gently turning his face from where he’s hidden it in his elbow, “so pretty, you’re so—“

Ichigo gasps, eyelashes fluttering, voice airy and wanton, “please, more!” His cock is already coming back to full hardness. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying in vain to prevent the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes from running down his cheeks.

Zangetsu rocks slowly, refusing to increase his pace to accommodate the king. His long fingers wipe at the tears, draw from overstimulation and need. Fuck. His king needed him. Wanted him so bad he was crying for him.

“Look at me, King. You’re so good for me, pretty boy, so good to me,” He praises, hands sliding from Ichigo's face to his sides, trailing softly over his ribs and sliding around his waist. His thumbs swipe across the tensed muscle, enjoying how Ichigo's abs quiver under his gentle touch.

He groans when Ichigo tightens in reply to his words, urging him to continue speaking. “ You like that? Being told how pretty and good you are?”

Ichigo whimpers, nods once jerkily.

“Beg for it,” Zangetsu urges him, thumbs tracing along Ichigo's V lines, hands so close to where Ichigo wants him, “say it, I’ll make you feel so good if you-“

“Yes, please, yes, hollow- Zangetsu, please!” Ichigo rushes out, words tripping over themselves.

It’s the best sound Zangetsus ever heard, his King, begging him for something. Not asking for the Old Man. Not ignoring him. Not shoving him down and away into his subconscious. Saying his name.

Only he could do this for his king.

Zangetsu surges forward to deliver a breathless kiss, tongue immediately delving into the king’s mouth when he moans again, please please please slipping from his lips even as Zangetsu overwhelms him. He sounds absolutely sinful. Beautiful. Only Zangetsu has ever heard him like this. So desperate and needy.

He slides a hand between their bodies, arching up to create space and his cock must have pressed against Ichigo's prostate because he whimpers again, “ooh right there!“

Finally, finally he curls one hand around Ichigo’s weeping cock. Ichigo shudders and gasping into Zangetsu mouth, hands straining against the bandages.

Zangetsu pulls back, just a little to watch his king come undone. “Is that what you want? You’re so pretty tied up like this, open on my cock, crying. My pretty little slut.” He punctuated his last word with a much harder thrust, driving deep into Ichigo and forcing a moan from his lips. His jerks him faster, matching the rhythm of his hips and squeezing on the up. He watches greedily as more precum leaks from the head of Ichigo’s dick, reaches up to dug a thumbnail into the slit, and Ichigo is gone again.

His abs contract so hard he pulls himself halfway off the floor, spurting cum all the way up his chest and over Zanagestu’s hand. He’s beautiful. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, hole clenching tight around Zangetsu’s cock. The visual and sensation send Zangetsu hurling after him.

He fucks Ichigo through his orgasm, moaning into his king’s ear, even as Ichigo starts squirming from overstimulation. Lasts another dozen thrusts, likes the sloppy sound of his cum inside Ichigo, before slowing to a stop. He collapses with a shivery, satisfied noise in his throat. Feels like he can fall asleep right here, leaning over Ichigo with his cock plugging up his ass. Almost says as much but Ichigo is a blushing virgin and that might be too much now that it’s over.

Instead he turns his head slightly to whisper, “D’ya believe how gorgeous I think you are now?”

Ichigo huffs a tired, raw laugh. “If that’s how youre gonna show me, I might need you to remind me again in the future.”

Zangestu smirks and licks his lips. Yeah. He kisses at Ichigo’s neck, nibbling up before deft fingers reach up to untie the bandages from around Ichigo’s wrists. Yeah he could do that.

“First though,” Zangestu can hear the sharp grin in Ichigo’s voice, and suddenly he’s being rolled over, Ichigo’s weight settling over his hips, cum leaking out and over the hollow’s skin. His grin is wicked, amber eyes narrowed in challenge, “I’m going to fuck you.”


End file.
